


let's talk about you and me

by alotofthingsdifferent, folignos



Series: let's tell it how it is [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:09:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3850462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/pseuds/alotofthingsdifferent, https://archiveofourown.org/users/folignos/pseuds/folignos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘What’s your name?’ Brent asks, catching his wrist.</p><p>‘Uh,’ Jonny says, intelligently. ‘Jon. Jonny. Never Jonno.’</p><p>Brent grins. ‘Stick around, Jonny, there might be more free drinks in your future.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's talk about you and me

**Author's Note:**

> happy belated birthday jonathan toews! this is literally twelve and a half thousand words of porn pretending it has a story!
> 
> we chatficced for like three weeks and this is what happened. we're not sorry.
> 
> hit jay up on tumblr [here](http://rraantasaurus.tumblr.com)! hit amanda up on tumblr [here](http://alotofthingsdifferent.tumblr.com)!
> 
> the title is from exactly what you think it's from

The bar is packed.

Jonny has no idea how he even got talked into this, he has a final in three days time and he has to study for that, and the one next week, and he needs to find a part time job and finish the paperwork for his internship and--

‘Jon. Jonny. Dude. Stop thinking so hard, you’re putting me off my game.’

Jonny blinks. Looks up from the single melting ice cube left in his glass. ‘I didn’t say anything?’

Kaner rolls his eyes, shoves Jonny’s shoulder. ‘You’re thinking so loud they can hear you in _China_. Go get me another drink.’

‘Go get your own drink,’ Jonny says, shoving back, but he gets up from the table and starts picking his way through the crowd anyway.

He’s not getting Kaner a drink, but he ends up at the bar anyway, next to a couple of girls who might be on a date and might just be really, really good friends. He decides to give them as much privacy as a full bar on a Friday night can give them, and glances around for the bartender.

The guy behind the bar is tall and broad-shouldered, with a couple of weeks of beard growth and his shirt is almost translucent it’s so thin. If it was just a little bit lighter in here, Jonny thinks he’d be able to see the shadow of the abs that are almost certainly hiding under the cotton, if the biceps are anything to judge by. He might be the hottest person Jonny’s ever seen, and Jonny’s seen Date-Night Sharpy in action.

He reaches to the top shelf for a bottle of Southern Comfort and his shirt rides up just an inch or so. Jonny looks at it for an embarrassingly long time, until the shirt drops down again. Jonny glances up and realises he’s been caught staring. He flushes, but stays where he is.

‘What can I get you?’ the guy asks, leaning in to shout over the music. ‘Besides the free show, that is.’

‘Um,’ Jonny says. He’s incredibly aware of how red he is. The bartender’s still looking at him, half smile playing on his face. Jonny wants to climb him like a _tree_.

‘Beer? Wine? Something stronger?’ The bartender prompts him, still smiling.

‘Coke,’ Jonny says in panic, and closes his eyes in mortification.

The bartender glances at the back of his hands, looking for the underage stamp, Jonny guesses. ‘I can get you a beer, if you want.’

‘Soda’s fine,’ Jonny says, because he’s in it, now. ‘I’m uh, not much of a drinker.’

‘I’m Brent,’ the bartender says with a smirk, sliding over a glass of dark liquid. There’s a paper umbrella in it. Jonny pokes at it suspiciously, and tries to hand over a couple of dollars. Brent waves it away. ‘On me,’ Brent says. ‘For the compliment.’

Jonny looks at him. ‘But I didn’t--’

‘You were staring at me so long I had time to get an oil painting done. It was flattering, kid.’

Jonny’s blush flares up again, and he mumbles a thanks before turning to leave.

‘What’s your name?’ Brent asks, catching his wrist.

‘Uh,’ Jonny says, intelligently. ‘Jon. Jonny. Never Jonno.’

Brent grins. ‘Stick around, Jonny, there might be more free drinks in your future.’

-

There’s a shot glass in front of Jonny. He is not sure how it got there, but there’s a trail of salt along the webbing of his thumb, and a wedge of lime sitting in the palm of Brent’s hand.

The bar’s cleared out, everyone moving on for more exciting places. Jonny assumes people got bored of cheap beer and bad music. Who knows. All he knows is that it’s just him and Brent, and Brent is looking down at him with that same half-smile on his face he’s been wearing all night. He wobbles his hand and the lime wobbles with it.

Jonny licks the salt up, grimacing, throws the shot back, and turns purple.

‘Oh my god,’ he says, coughing. ‘You gave me lighter fluid. You’re trying to kill me.’

Brent doubles over laughing.

Jonny gets the coughing under control and scowls. ‘You’re a dick.’

Brent straightens up with difficulty. ‘I’m sorry.’ He sniggers again. ‘Want me to make it up to you?’

Jonny ends up with his head tilted to one side, a couple of extra buttons undone on his shirt, and Brent’s tongue warm on his collarbone.

‘Uh,’ he says. Brent pulls back and sprinkles salt on the damp skin.

‘Body shots,’ he says, quietly, pouring another measure into the glass. ‘Are a delicate art. you have to get them just right.’ He pops the lime wedge between Jonny’s teeth, and leans into his neck again. ‘Stay still,’ he whispers, just before licking along the line of salt.

Jonny stays still. His cheeks are flaming hot. Brent pulls back and picks up the shot. He winks at Jonny and throws it back, licking his lips as he sets the glass down with a clack.

Jonny doesn’t realise he’s leaning in for the wedge of lime until he can feel Brent’s breath hot on his jaw. He stays statues still, and lets Brent tug the lime free.

Jonny _definitely_ just popped a boner in a dive bar in _Old Town_. Brent spits the lime into the sink behind the bar and smirks.

‘Your turn, kid.’

‘Wait, no--’ Jonny starts, but Brent’s already pouring him a shot and tugging at the collar of his shirt to expose the ridge of his collarbone. He licks his finger and wets the skin there, before tipping the slat on awkwardly. He picks up the single, solitary wedge of lime left in the shallow bowl of water and bites down on the rind gently. He raises an eyebrow at Jonny.

Face still heated, Jonny leans in and runs the flat of his tongue along Brent’s collarbone. The skin is hot under his mouth, and Jonny mouths gently at the ridge of bone before pulling back, not looking Brent in the eye. He knocks back the shot silently, and even manages not to cough it everywhere this time.

Brent’s hand comes up and tangles in the back of his hair, pulls him in until Jonny’s lips are sealed around the wedge of lime. He bites down and sucks at the lime juice until it’s dry, and he pulls back.

Brent spits the lime out again and hauls Jonny straight back in for a kiss. Tequila isn’t as gross when you’re tasting it coated on someone else’s tongue, he decides, closing his eyes and fisting his hands in Brent’s shirt.

Brent gets a hand on Jonny’s ass and pulls their hips together, and Jonny feels Brent’s dick rubbing across his hip. ‘Oh god,’ he says, faintly. ‘I think I’m drunk,’ he says, and Brent throws his head back and laughs.

‘How old _are_ you, kid? I didn’t see a stamp on your hand, but...’

‘Twenty,’ Jonny admits.

‘Legal in Canada,’ Brent says, nosing at Jonny’s neck. His hand is still on Jonny’s ass, thumb resting just below the small of his back.

‘We aren’t in Canada,’ Jonny points out.

‘You gonna call the cops on me?’ Brent asks, and bites at Jonny’s jaw. Jonny’s mouth drops open, and he shakes his head, eyes sliding shut.

‘Not if you do that forever,’ he says, embarrassingly breathy.

Brent’s hand is cupping Jonny’s dick through his jeans, and Jonny pushes into it automatically. Brent has him backed up against the bartop, it’s probably going to leave a mark where his back is pressing against the wood.

In the end, Brent doesn’t even get Jonny’s belt undone. He slots a thigh between Jonny’s legs and kisses him stupid, letting Jonny rub off on his leg until he comes in his pants like a fifteen year old.

‘Sorry,’ Jonny mutters, blushing.

Brent kisses up his throat. ‘That was the hottest thing I’ve seen in a long time, babe.’

Jonny-- doesn’t know what to say to that.

‘Come on,’ Brent says, with a grin. ‘Let me show you my office.’

Brent’s office has a desk and a laptop and a fridge.

‘This is like a dorm room without a bed,’ Jonny says, looking around.

‘Hey,’ Brent says, mock-offended. ‘My dorm room never had a plant.’

‘I mean,’ Jonny says, poking at the dead plant on the desk. ‘I don’t think this counts as a plant anymore.’

‘You’re rude for someone who just had a guy’s tongue in his mouth,’ Brent says.

Jonny opens his mouth to snark back and Brent kisses him again, backing him against the desk.

‘You talk too much,’ Brent says, stripping Jonny’s shirt off. He bends a little, hooks his hands under Jonny’s thighs and lifts him onto the desk like he weighs nothing. Jonny’s dick starts paying attention again, twitching gently.

Jonny spreads his legs so Brent can stand between them, kisses him deeper. He tightens his thighs around Brent's waist and grips his biceps, clawing at his shirt sleeves.

Brent pulls back, his lips lingering on Jonny's. 'You want something, sweetheart?' he says, with a smirk playing on his lips

‘I want _you_ ,’ Jonny says, and tries to pull him closer, but Brent holds him back, just a little bit.

'Is that so?' Brent asks, leaning in so Jonny can feel his breath, hot on his jaw. Jonny whines and nods.

'I guess we could do something about that, then,' Brent says, and starts working on Jonny's belt.

Jonny flushes a darker red when Brent gets a hand in his underwear and finds him still damp with come. ‘You’re a bit of a mess, huh?’ Brent teases. ‘We should get you out of these.’

Jonny ends up sprawled across the desk while Brent bends over him, peeling his jeans off slowly and then his underwear, pausing to kiss the hollow of his hipbone, the crease of his groin, the soft skin on the side of his knee. Jonny's already half hard by the time Brent straightens up, runs a hand over Jonny's belly and chest, rubbing at a nipple on his way past.

'You wanna tell me what you want, sweetheart?' Brent says, leaning in so close Jonny has trouble ordering his thoughts for a second.

'You,' he gasps, but Brent just shakes his head with a grin.

'You gotta be more specific, babe. What do you want me to do to you?'

Jonny’s used to fumbling handjobs in dark back corners of parties, terrible blowjobs in club bathrooms. He’s not used to guys like Brent. He doesn’t _know_ what he wants.

‘I don’t--’ he starts. Brent’s biting lightly at his jaw, following his teeth with slow flicks of his tongue and, ‘I-- eat me out?’

He doesn’t mean to say that, it just kind of comes out. Brent gives him the same predatory grin again, brushes their lips together. 'See? That wasn't so hard now, was it?'

Jonny’s cheek heat, and Brent kisses him, slow and filthy, and then whispers, 'Turn over for me, babe’, dirty as anything, and Jonny shivers.

Brent gets him bent over the desk, elbows and forehead pressing into the wood as he nudges his thighs further apart. He settles on his knees behind Jonny and presses his thumbs into the meat of his ass, pulling gently so he can blow cool air onto the ring of muscle there. Jonny shivers, bites at his lip. He’s shaking a little bit and Brent hasn't even touched him yet, not really.

He's only had anyone do this to him once, and it wasn't even all that good, mostly awkward, actually, and they’d laughed about it afterwards, but something about the shadow of facial hair on Brent's jaw and the way his tongue had felt on Jonny's neck has made it all he can think about.

He groans softly when he feels the scrape of stubble against his thigh. 'Gonna make you feel so good,' Brent says against his skin.

It feels like takes Brent forever to actually touch him. He keeps digging his fingers into the meat of Jonny's ass, and scraping his stubble up and down the sensitive skin of Jonny's thighs until he's red all over from beard burn.

He bites Jonny gently just at the crease of his ass and then again, harder, makes him jump, coaxes a soft, startled sound out of him, and he feels Brent grin before he pushes the point of his tongue in slowly.

‘Oh my _god_ ,’ Jonny gasps, and if it didn’t feel so fucking amazing, he’d be ashamed at the way he presses back against Brent’s face, wanting more, more, _more_.

He feels Brent chuckle as he flattens his tongue against him. ‘Easy, babe,’ he says, ‘I got you.’ Jonny's thighs are trembling and he grips the edge of the desk tightly when Brent starts in again.

Brent ends up slinging an arm across the small of his back to hold him down, stop him squirming, but it just makes Jonny mouthier, gasping and moaning.

Brent's tongue might be magic.

Jonny could write songs about it.

'Oh god,' he gasps into his forearm. 'Oh god, oh god, _fuck_ , don't stop.'

Brent digs his fingers into Jonny's hips, laying wet kisses around his rim. 'You don't need to beg, kid,' he says gently.

Jonny gets wordless eventually, making soft whimpery sounds into his forearm and he feels sloppy-wet and loose with spit.

When Brent gets a hand on him he’s painfully hard, dick knocking against the desk lightly every time his hips jerk.

‘You wanna come, baby?’ he asks.

Jonny makes a choked-off sound, nods. Brent makes an amused sound, and replaces his tongue with his fingers,  wrapping his other hand around Jonny's cock, and jerking him in short, quick strokes that have Jonny writhing.

He kisses the small of Jonny's back when he comes, stroking him through the aftershocks, catching him around the hips when his knees buckle a little.

‘You okay?’ he asks. Jonny mumbles a yes that doesn’t even sound like a word to him, but he reaches back and tangles his fingers with Brent’s hand, curled around his hip.

Brent stands Jonny up, turns him around, and kisses him gently.

‘You wanna come home with me?’ he asks, when Jonny's stopped looking quite so dazed.

‘I-- yes?’ Jonny says, leaning in for another kiss.

‘Get dressed,’ Brent says against his neck, ‘and we'll get out of here.’

Jonny must doze off in the cab, because he blinks and suddenly Brent’s nuzzling at his ear, biting it gently. ‘We’re here, kid,’ he says, and Jonny screws up his face and sits up.

He’s still kind of dazed when Brent gets him inside, peels his shirt and jeans off again.

‘Are we having sex again?’ he mumbles, blinks up at Brent when he laughs. ‘No, kid. We’re gonna go to sleep.’

Jonny frowns. ‘But you didn’t get off,’ he argues, even as Brent manhandles him onto the bed, pulling his own shirt off and kicking out of his pants.

Brent shushes him, which Jonny thinks is tremendously unfair, but he climbs into bed next to Jonny and wraps around him easily. ‘Later,’ he says. ‘Sleep now.’

‘Okay,’ Jonny agrees, and shuffles in closer.

-

When he wakes up, it's hours later and it's still dark. He panics for a minute, doesn't remember where he is, and there's a heavy arm thrown over his torso, and he's in his underwear and oh-- oh yeah. _Brent_.

He bites his lip to keep from giggling. This is so not like him, he's never gone home with some random guy from the bar, with the _owner_ of the bar, jesus.

Brent's lips are really close to his neck. He can feel Brent's breath hot on his skin.

Jonny wiggles a little bit, pushes himself closer to Brent's morning wood mostly by accident. He remembers last night, remembers Brent getting him off twice and not letting Jonny get him back. He shifts a little closer and slides his hand into Brent’s underwear. Brent snuffles, and rolls onto his back, giving Jonny a much easier angle to work from.

‘Hey,’ Brent says suddenly, sleep-rough. Jonny looks up at him, guilty.

‘Hi,’ he says, chewing on his lower lip. Brent looks rumpled, but like he wants to eat Jonny alive. ‘Is this-- okay?’

Brent grins wide, and tugs Jonny in for a kiss. ‘Something like that,’ he says.

The handjob is objectively probably terrible, but Brent spills into Jonny’s hand with a content sigh, and drags him into the bathroom, where he boxes him in and kisses him stupid until the water runs cold and they have to jump out, laughing.

Brent makes breakfast and tea, and hooks his ankle around Jonny’s calf while he eats, running his toes up and down the sensitive skin there. Jonny doesn’t realise he has a big, dumb smile on his face until Brent asks him what he’s smiling about.

‘I-- like you?’ he says, surprised.

Brent chuckles. ‘Is that a question?'

Jonny blushes again. It seems like it’s becoming a pattern around Brent. ‘No.’

Brent leans over and kisses his cheek. ‘Good,’ he says. ‘I like you too.’

-

Eventually, Brent has to let him go, drives him back to his apartment in a borrowed shirt that’s clearly not his.

Brent kisses him over the gearstick of the car longer than is probably socially acceptable. Jonny’s a little dizzy when he climbs out of the passenger seat and wanders into the building

‘Where the fuck did you disappear off to last night?’ Sharpy asks when he lets himself in. ‘Oh. Never mind.’

He can hear the smirk in his voice, and when he sees himself in the mirror, he gets it. There’s a livid bitemark on his collarbone, where his shirt would normally cover, but Brent’s shirt hangs loose, putting it on display.

‘Get it, Toes,’ Kaner says when they meet him for lunch. Jonny’s changed, he knows you can’t see anything, so he glares at Sharpy.

‘You’re an asshole,’ he says, and drops into his seat to glare at his sandwich.

‘Like you didn’t tell the whole world about the time I hooked up with that dude in my Polisci lecture.’

‘That was _different_ ,’ Jonny says, and bites into his sandwich angrily.

‘How is your one night stand any different to mine?’ Sharpy asks, smug.

Jonny opens his mouth, and shuts it. Of course that’s what it was. Just a one night stand. He didn’t even get Brent’s number, or leave his.

‘Whatever,’ he grunts, and starts back in on his lunch.

-

Jonny pretty much lives in the library for the next two weeks, working on a paper, right up until it’s Saturday again, and Sharpy comes and digs him out of his pile of bio textbooks, forces a beer into him, and drags him out to a bar to ‘at least pretend you’re having fun, come on, Jon.’

‘Why are you wearing that shirt again?' Kaner asks, eyeing it when they meet him downtown.

‘It’s what I was wearing when I was kidnapped from the library,’ Jonny says, glaring at Sharpy. ‘Wait, why are we going to this bar?’

‘Cheap beer, it empties out pretty early,’ Sharpy says, and then grins. ‘Bartender’s hot.’

Jonny stalls for as long as he can outside Brent’s bar, before he lets himself get dragged inside. Brent’s--

Not there.

Jonny feels his stomach sink a little, which is weird, because up until five seconds ago, he’d been doing anything he can to avoid having to do that awkward ‘hi, we fucked one time, you probably don’t really remember me’ dance. Jonny hates that dance.

He slumps into a free booth and stares moodily at his beer until he can’t nurse it any longer, and is bullied out of the booth for another round.

The bartender, a tall guy with red hair tied back into a messy ponytail, gives him a long look, before reaching into the back pocket of his jeans.

‘This is for you.’

Jonny holds his hands up. ‘Thanks man, I’m flattered, but uh, not interested, sorry.’

The guy looks at him flatly, unimpressed. ‘From Seabs.’

‘I don’t know a-- Brent?’

The guy rolls his eyes, and shoves the piece of paper at him. ‘Yeah. Brent. Seabs. Whatever. Take the number, kid.’

‘How’d you know to give it to me?’ Jonny asks, taking it and unfolding it.

‘You’re wearing his shirt,’ the guy says, and then turns to serve a customer.

Jonny goes back to the booth with the number and no beers. Sharpy squints at him. ‘What good are you?’ he asks, and gets up to get his own beer. Jonny plugs Brent’s number into his phone, and drafts a half dozen texts before deleting them all and going with _hi, its jonny_. He tries not to check his phone every ten minutes for a reply.

He does not succeed.

He doesn't get a reply until they're walking out of the bar and he's given up.  

_you wanna come over?_

‘Come the fuck on, Jonny, I thought you wanted to get out of here.’ Sharpy’s doing everything short of tapping his foot.

‘Uh--’ he says.

_duncs will give you a ride_

‘Who’s that?’ Sharpy asks, peeking over his shoulder at the text.

‘Uh--’ he says, but Sharpy’s already snickering and abandoning him.

He looks over his shoulder,  and sees the bartender (Duncs, apparently) grinning at him.

Jonny fidgets the entire way to Brent's place, but Duncs asks him all kinds of questions about what he's studying, is surprisingly chatty.

‘I was almost pre med,’ he says, mysteriously, and then changes the conversation. Jonny looks at him, curiously, but doesn’t push it.

-

Brent is sprawled across the sofa when Duncs opens the door, grunts a greeting, and vanishes off into his own room.

Jonny hovers by the door and fidgets. He can see a sliver of skin showing between the waistband of Brent's pants and his t-shirt where it's riding up a little. He looks away. He refuses to get caught staring again.

‘Hey, you,’ Brent says, smiling warmly, and then, ‘is that my shirt?’

Jonny blushes.

Brent tilts his head, waves him over for a kiss that gets a little too heated, a little too fast. Jonny is determined not to come in his pants again so he backs off, breathing heavy.

‘You good?’ Brent asks, and Jonny nods, adjusts himself.

Brent tugs on his wrist and he goes with it, settling his legs on either side of Brent's lap. ‘Hi,’ Brent says with a smile, pressing his thumb into the dip of Jonny's collarbone.

Jonny rolls his hips down. ‘Hey.’

Brent smirks up at him. ‘Come here often?’ he asks, and surprises a laugh out of Jonny.

He scrunches his nose at him, and Brent leans up and kisses the wrinkles, running the palms of his hands down the planes of Jonny's ribs, making him shiver.

Jonny knows two things.

One, he's never had sex as good as the sex he had with Brent.

Two, he wants to do it again so much it honestly scares him a little.

He's a little worried that he's getting -- attached. He feels kind of dumb about it, he's literally only met this guy one time and he hasn't been able to stop thinking about him.  

But Brent seems happy to see him, and so Jonny decides to ride that as long as he can. Until Brent gets bored of him, anyway.

Brent dips his fingertips under the hem of Jonny's shirt. ‘You stole my shirt.’

Jonny looks down at it. ‘Not on purpose.’

Brent smirks. ‘Maybe I should take it back.’

Jonny's feeling bold. Maybe it's the way Brent's looking at him, like he's the best thing he's ever seen.

‘Maybe I don't want to give it back,’ Jonny says, and watches Brent light up.

‘Is that so?’

Jonny settles back on his hips, plants his hands on brent's chest. ‘Yep.’

Brent smirks even wider, and grips Jonny’s hips before flipping him onto the rug on his back, tumbling down from the couch easily

Jonny feels his eyes widen.

‘Okay,’ Brent says, ducking his head to brush his nose along Jonny's throat. ‘You can keep it on.

He tucks his fingers under the hem, fingers skirting the sensitive skin just above Jonny's waistband.  Jonny whimpers when his thumb nudges the head of his dick.

Brent latches on to his collarbone where the neck of the t-shirt gapes, bites at the faintest of marks from the last time they did this and nips along the ridge of bone as he slowly pops the button on Jonny's pants.

Jonny wriggles, but he’s tugging at Brent's belt too, fumbling mostly and not really doing anything in the way of getting Brent's pants off. He makes a frustrated sound and and Brent laughs, a puff of air over damp skin.

‘Take these off,’ Jonny demands, tugging at them.

‘Hmm, maybe later,’ Brent says, and goes back to bruising Jonny's throat up.

Brent eases Jonny's zipper down and parts his pants, tucking his hand in and pressing his palm against his length over his boxer briefs.  Jonny whines and bucks his hips, tugging at Brent's pants again.

‘Easy, sweetheart,’ he says against Jonny's ear, catching his wrists in his hands and pinning them above his head. The hold isn't tight, Brent's fingers are gentle on his wrists, but Jonny doesn't move, even though he knows he could.  ‘Gonna tell me what you want?’

Jonny huffs and closes his eyes, rolls his hips up, trying to catch Brent's. ‘Can't you just -- do whatever?’ he asks, impatient.

Brent chuckles and kisses each side of Jonny's face before sucking lightly on his lower lip. ‘I wanna know what you like.’

‘I like _you_ ,’ Jonny blurts, way too honest and raw, and Brent just lights up.

‘Yeah?’ he says, and presses down a little harder. Jonny’s cheeks flame.

‘Just-- do what you like to do,’ he says, strangled. ‘I'll like it.’

‘Hmm,’ Brent says, considering, mouthing along Jonny's jaw, down his throat. He releases his grip on his wrists, trails fingers down his arms. ‘Would you like it if I sucked your dick?’

Jonny nods quickly, biting his lower lip.

He tucks a hand back into Jonny's pants, thumbs the head of his cock through the fabric. 'How 'bout if I ate you out again?’

Jonny flashes back to that night, the way his legs trembled when he came with Brent's tongue in him. 'Fuck, Brent,’ he moans gently, circling his hips.

‘Or what if,’ Brent says, kissing Jonny softly. ‘I take you back to my room.’ Another kiss. ‘Strip you down.’ Another kiss. ‘And just kiss you for hours?’

Jonny's cock jerks in his pants, against Brent's hand, and he grins, nosing his way down to Jonny's ear. ‘And by the way, Jonny,’ he says. ‘I like you too.’

Jonny shudders, and rolls his hips up.

‘Take me into your room,’ he begs, and Brent kisses him, slow and filthy, before climbing off him and leading the way.

Jonny leaves a trail of clothes to the bedroom. Brent is still fully clothed when he backs Jonny against his closed bedroom door.

‘Cmon,’ Jonny whines against Brent's mouth. Brent kisses him quiet, but it's not long before he's whimpering again, tugging at Brent's shirt.

‘Cmon,’ he repeats. ‘I wanna see you.’

‘Soon,’ Brent promises, biting at his jaw before slowly sinking to his knees.

Jonny misses Brent's mouth on his as soon as it's gone, but when he kisses the crease of his thigh before running his tongue up Jonny's length, his knees nearly buckle.

Brent laughs softly, rubs his stubble across the soft skin of Jonny's upper thigh, mouths at the head of his dick where jonny's already painfully hard.

He buries a hand in Brent's hair, tangles it the strands, but Brent pulls off and looks up at him, stern. ‘Hands off, sweetheart,’ he says, kissing the very tip of Jonny's dick.

Jonny flattens his palms against the wall and throws his head back as Brent takes him deep.

He thrusts forward when Brent pulls back, chasing his mouth, but Brent just puts his big hands on Jonny's hips and pushes him back against the wall, holds him there as he mouths at the head of his dick. Jonny's hands clench and unclench at his sides. He's aching to touch Brent, doesn't really understand why he can't.

‘Wanna touch you,’ he manages as Brent takes him deep again.

‘Soon,’ Brent promises again, brushing his thumb over a bruise on Jonny's hip ‘Just let me do this for you,’ he says. Jonny's on a hair trigger already, so as soon as Brent gets his mouth on him, he comes down his throat, sagging against the wall.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jonny says, trying to catch his breath ‘I didn’t--’

‘It’s fine,’ Brent says, getting back to his feet and kissing him. Jonny can taste himself on Brent’s tongue, and he’s embarrassingly into it.

‘Can I fuck you?’ Brent asks, suddenly.

Jonny nearly swallows his own tongue in his haste to say yes.

Brent lays him out on the bed, running his hands over every bit of exposed skin. He finally, _finally_ pulls his shirt up and over his head, and Jonny reaches out to touch.

Brent pulls back, just out of reach. ‘Not yet,’ he says.

Jonny whines, frustrated, and Brent slaps him lightly on the belly.

‘Patience,’ he says, and steps back to slide his sweats down. Jonny's mouth goes a little dry. It’s not like he’s been with a ton of guys, and he knows he doesn’t have the biggest dick around, but Brent-- Brent’s kind of impressive. Jonny wants it in him _yesterday_.

He whines again when Brent kneels between his legs with slicked up fingers and presses one in, agonisingly slow. He spreads his legs and groans. Brent's eyes are all over him, making him feel so exposed.

‘Please,’ Jonny finds himself begging when Brent adds another finger, ‘Brent, _c’mon_ ,’

He wants Brent on him, he wants to feels Brent's skin on his, he wants _Brent_.

‘You're so bossy,' Brent teases, twisting his wrist sharply and making him yelp.

'You love it?' Jonny tries for smug, but ends up breathless and unsure, hands scrabbling on the sheets.

‘I guess I do,’ Brent admits, kisses his thigh gently.

He finally, finally rolls a condom on and slides in slowly, and Jonny's hands twitch. He wants to touch _so bad_.

Brent presses his hands in behind Jonny's knees.

He fucks in slowly, lazy roll of his hips, and Jonny arches his back, his hands hovering over Brent's biceps, clenching and unclenching. Brent leans in and kisses him sweetly.

'Okay, babe. You can touch.'

Jonny moans, and grabs at Brent's biceps hard enough to leave a mark.

Brent rolls his hips again, with a little more force. Jonny’s eyes roll a little.

'Hey, sweetheart?' he mumbles against Jonny's neck, sucking at his throat. Jonny whimpers in reply, turning his face, seeking Brent’s lips out for a kiss.

'Jonny,' Brent says against his mouth, pulling almost out and then fucking back in hard, making Jonny groan. 'Don't come.'

Jonny keens, blunt fingernails digging into Brent’s arms, and he realises there are tears springing to the corners of his eyes, trickling across his temples.

Brent straightens up, big hands holding Jonny's thighs apart as he fucks him. Jonny's trembling now, his head rolling from one side to the other, his mouth half open, panting.

‘Please Brent, _please_ ,' Jonny begs, his entire body pulled so tight and so tense he feels like he’s shaking apart.

‘Not yet, babe,' Brent says, kissing the hinge of his jaw. 'You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart.'

Jonny whimpers, and feels another tear rolls down his face.

Brent swipes his thumbs over Jonny's cheeks, wiping the tears from his face, cups his face in his hands and kisses him, slow and deep and languid, fucking into him hard. Jonny cries out into his mouth and Brent comes suddenly, breaking the kiss and groaning into Jonny's neck.

Jonny comes almost immediately after, Brent’s hand on his dick, throwing his head back and arching his spine.

Brent strokes him through it, kissing all over his face.

'Sorry,' Jonny mumbles. 'I know you told me not to, but I couldnt--'

'Shh,' Brent says, smoothing Jonny's hair back. 'It's okay. You did great.'

Jonny closes his eyes, leans into the touch, waits for the moment when Brent sends him on his way, tells him thanks for the good time, have a nice life.

He really doesn't want to go.

He lies there as long as he can, waiting for Brent to roll away and leave him to clean himself up.

Brent kisses his collarbone and gets up slowly, pads into the bathroom and comes out with a washcloth. He cleans Jonny up so carefully, kissing his belly gently once he's wiped the come off, and climbs back into bed, wrapping himself around Jonny.

'Don’t-- shouldn’t I leave?' Jonny asks.

Brent props himself up on an elbow. He looks confused. 'Do you want to leave?'

' _No_.' Jonny blurts, and colours.

Brent grins. 'Then stay. Duncs will make breakfast if you ask nicely, he's amazing.'

'...Oh,' Jonny says. 'Okay.'

Brent kisses him, and shifts down to drop onto the pillows. 'Go to sleep, sweetheart.'

Jonny shifts until he’s got Brent’s arm slung over his waist, and Brent’s nose just digging into the nape of his neck. He dozes off almost immediately. It's probably the best night's sleep Jonny's had in a while.

-

He wakes up before Brent, just like last time.

The smell of coffee draws him out of bed, and he slides out slowly, careful not to wake Brent. He pulls on his jeans from the night before and realizes his only option for a shirt is one of Brent's, so he reaches for the one he'd been wearing last night, when Jonny got there. Better than rooting through his drawers, at least.

Duncs is standing at the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone. 'Morning,' he grunts. 'There's coffee.'

'Thanks,' Jonny says, and looks around helplessly for a mug. Duncs points to a cabinet behind him.

It's super awkward. He doesn't know what to say, but then his stomach growls and Duncs chuckles, and that kind of breaks the ice.

Jonny quickly finds out that Duncs is _hilarious_ , and also possibly the best cook in the world.

'We're breaking up, I’m Duncs' now,' Jonny says through a mouthful of omelette, when Brent finally surfaces, rumpled and shirtless. ‘He’s going to make me omelettes _forever_.’

'Mm, thats fair,' Brent says, dropping into the seat next to him and leaning over to kiss him as soon as he swallows his mouthful of food. 'He's good in bed, too.'

Duncs winks. Jonny looks at him like he cant decide if they’re joking.

'Relax, sweetheart,' Brent says, palming Jonny's knee under the table. 'You're good.'  

Brent and Duncs share a look and Jonny just shuts up and eats his breakfast, sits between the two of them and watches them bicker jokingly.

-

Brent drives Jonny home after breakfast and gives him a disgustingly intimate kiss before letting him get out of the car. Jonny’s still red when he gets back to his room.

He doesn't hear from Brent the rest of the day. He tries not to obsess over it, but he doesn’t really succeed. He jerks off in the shower that night pretending it’s Brent’s hand on his dick instead of his own.

He doesn't hear from him at all the next day, either, and by the evening he's getting antsy and a little sad. It's just a fling, he keeps telling himself.

And then his phone dings, when he’s lying in bed. _are you thinking about me?_

 _who is this,_ he texts back, gets a laughing emoji in return.

 _yeah, im thinking abt you_ , Jonny texts, and his phone rings. Jonny waits a couple of seconds before picking up, tries to sound nonchalant.

'Hey,' he says, and Brent's voice comes through.

'What are you thinking about?'

'Uh. You?'

Brent laughs softly, and Jonny's stomach flips a little. 'I know that. What about me?'

Jonny stutters and says very little of importance.

Brent laughs again. ‘Let me get the ball rolling. I’m in bed, alone in the apartment, and I’m completely naked.'

Jonny makes a strangled sound and shoves his hand down his boxers, thanking god Kaner hooks up more nights than he doesn’t.

'Now,' Brent says. 'What are you thinking about?'

'Uh-- still you,' Jonny manages.

'Yes, sweetheart, but what _about_ me? My winning personality? My killer smile?'

'Your mouth,' Jonny blurts. He’s so very glad Brent’s not here to see just how red his face is.

He can practically hear Brent smirking down the phone. 'There you go. Was that so hard, babe?'

Jonny says nothing, just turns redder, but Brent keeps talking.

'Now, what about my mouth? You want it on your dick? Or maybe just biting down, hard on your collarbone until you moan? Or maybe I could flip you over and eat you out until you cry again, how about that?'

Jonny can feel himself starting to stiffen up, and he’s barely even touching himself, just has his thumb and forefinger circled around his length.

'Oh god,' Jonny says, sounding mortifyingly breathy already. 'I just-- everything. I want everything.'

Brent hums down the phone thoughtfully.

'If I was there, I think I'd have you on your back, hands above your head so you couldn't touch. Maybe I'd tie them there so you couldn’t even if you wanted to.'

Jonny whimpers, arches his back a little, and he can _hear_ the laughter in Brent's voice when he says, 'Yeah, thought you'd like that.'

'Please,' Jonny whispers, eyes sliding shut.

'You're so easy for me, aren't you, sweetheart,' Brent says. 'Want it so bad.'

Jonny can’t even start to deny it.

'Wanna get my hands all over you, my mouth. Mark you up. You gonna let me do that, babe?'

'Yes,' Jonny manages. 'Yeah, I want you to.'

'I’m coming over,' Brent says. 'Don’t touch yourself until I get there.' The line goes dead.

Jonny looks down his body where his erection is straining against his underwear and makes a soft sound of dismay, pulling his hand out and leaving it flat on the bed next to him.

He doesn't move. He lays in bed and tries to think of anything but Brent's mouth on him, and he fails miserably, so when Brent finally arrives, he's still just as hard as he was when they hung up.

'Did you listen?' Brent says, latching on to Jonny's neck, pushing him into the room and letting the door swing shut behind him.

'Yeah,' Jonny says, hands scrabbling up Brent's back. 'I didn't touch.'

'You’re so good for me,' Brent murmurs, biting at the muscle of Jonny's throat.

'Please touch me,' Jonny whines, rubbing off on Brent's thigh a little frantically.

‘Not yet,' Brent says, savoring the whimper that drops from Jonny's lips. He pushes him onto the bed carefully, straddles his thighs.

He moves Jonny's hands above his head, crosses them at the wrists. 'Leave them there,' he says against Jonny's mouth as he kisses him.

He sits back on his heels and just-- looks Jonny up and down. Jonny presses his wrists together and bites his lower lip swollen.

Brent eases his underwear down slowly, hooking his thumbs into the waistband and tugging. Jonny makes a soft sound when his cock bobs up and out of the material, and Brent smiles.

He sucks the tip into his mouth and Jonny can’t help but cry out, bucking up into Brent's mouth and he pulls off immediately, laying his palms on Jonny's hips, holding him down with a gentle but firm pressure.

Jonny's never had sex like this before. He never wants it to stop.

Brent leans in again, nuzzles Jonny's inner thigh before sucking a bruise there.

Jonny's admittedly kind of distracted, but he tries to lift his hips up and realises Brent’s not even making an effort to hold him down, which is-- possibly the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him.

He hooks his hands around the headboard and closes his eyes and decides to just let Brent do what he wants to him.

'Close,' he bites out eventually. 'Brent-- close.'

'Yeah?' Brent says from his spot just above the jut of Jonny's hip, where he's scraping his teeth along Jonny's skin. 'I haven't even touched you yet,' he says, licking at the teeth marks.

'Have too,' Jonny bites, defensive. 'I've got the marks to prove it.'

Brent hums against his skin and the vibrations travel up and down Jonny's dick, making him toss his head.

'I guess I have,' he says, rubbing his thumb over the teethmarks. 'Maybe I'll give you another one.' He leans over again and sucks a big purple mark into Jonny's inner thigh, palming his dick roughly at the same time.

Jonny sobs and comes all over his own belly.

Brent kisses behind Jonny's knee, and Jonny can feel the smile against his skin. He lays there for a long moment, catching his breath, his hands still gripping the headboard tightly.

Brent sits back on his heels again. Jonny guesses he’s admiring his work. He can feel the tiny bruises springing up already.

Jonny feels exhausted suddenly, limbs heavy. He looks at Brent and realises he’s still hard in his sweats.

'You didn’t come,’ Jonny mumbles, fighting to keep his eyes open. 'You should-- do that?'

'Yeah?' Brent asks, teasing. 'You want me to come on you? Make you even more of a mess?'

Jonny’s moan is apparently all the answer Brent needs.

He slides his cock along the smooth jut of Jonny's hip, slick with sweat and come, and Jonny watches through half-open eyes, mesmerized.

He realises he’s still holding on to the headboard.

'So pretty,' Brent says, thumbing Jonny's lower lip.

'Me?' Jonny mumbles, confused.

'No one else here,' Brent says, and the head of his cock catches on Jonny's abs. He makes a sound that makes Jonny wake up a little, look up at him. 'You look so fucking good, Jonny, laid out on the bed like this. I just wanna mess you up even more.'

'Do it,' Jonny says. He means it to sound like a challenge, even while he's lying there boneless, knuckles so white around the headboard he can almost feel the joints creaking.

'I'm gonna fuck your mouth,' Brent says, matter-of-fact, and he knee-walks up Jonny's body, rubbing the head of his dick over Jonny's lower lip. 'Can you keep your hands here, sweetheart?' Brent asks covering them both with one of his own.

Jonny nods and opens his mouth.

Brent slides in so easy. 'You okay, babe?' he asks. Jonny nods, and hollows his cheeks. Brent adjusts his grip on Jonny's wrists, plants the other hand on the pillow by Jonny's head and slides his cock in and out of Jonny's mouth smoothly. Jonny’s making some frankly embarrassing sounds around his dick.

'Yeah, that's perfect, Jonny, you're taking it so good,' Brent says, stroking the side of Jonny's face. He fucks into Jonny's mouth once, twice, then pulls out quickly and jerks off, coming all over Jonny's chin and neck, coating the bruises on his collarbone.

Jonny gasps, looks up at him, wide eyed, speechless. Brent drags his thumb through the come on his throat and slides it into Jonny's mouth. Jonny sucks it cleans without thinking about it.

'Jesus,' Brent murmurs to himself before leaning down to kiss Jonny breathless. 'What am I gonna do with you?'

'Keep me?' Jonny asks, blurry eyed and half asleep.

Brent laughs. 'That's my plan. Just gonna keep you in bed forever.'

'I have a final tomorrow,' Jonny mumbles.

'Well,' Brent says, nosing at his neck. 'I guess an exception could be made for school.'

He kisses his cheek and stands up, and Jonny rolls towards him, reaching out. 'Don't go,' he says quickly, and he’s almost embarrassed by how desperate he sounds.

'I'm not,' Brent says, kissing the top of Jonny's head. 'Just gonna get some water.'

He strolls naked into the kitchen. Jonny really hopes Sharpy is in bed.

Sharpy is not in bed. Because that would make Jonny's life too easy.

Brent is gone for a long time, and when Jonny wanders out into the main area, still flushed and bruised (but thankfully come free) Brent's just standing behind the kitchen counter laughing, and Sharpy’s making coffee and the kitchen table is piled with textbooks.

Brent is totally unashamed of being buck ass naked in front of Sharpy, which is good, because Jonny is red enough for the both of them, especially when Sharpy wolfwhistles at Jonny's hickeys and says something about getting Brent a chewtoy.

'Shut up, Sharpy,' Jonny scowls, and Brent laughs, tugging Jonny against his side by the hip and nuzzling his nose into Jonny's neck.

'Aw, c'mon, sweetheart,' he says, his voice low in Jonny's ear. 'I marked you up for a reason.'

Jonny turns even redder. Sharpy makes vomiting sounds and makes his escape, coffee in hand.

Brent pushes his thumb into a bite mark just above Jonny's nipple. He hisses, and pushes into it.

'No sex in the kitchen!' Sharpy shouts from his room. They both jump and laugh.

'We can have sex in the kitchen at my place,' Brent says, tilting Jonny's face up with two fingers under his chin.  'Duncs wouldn't mind.'

'Duncs would definitely mind,' Jonny says. 'Also, I think you broke me. I can never have sex again.'

Brent looks thrilled, and then dismayed. 'But there’s so much stuff I still want to do to you.'

'Yeah?' Jonny says, swallowing hard as he tracks the movement of Brent's fingertips trailing up his arm. 'You're not bored of me?'

Brent laughs softly and brushes a kiss over a purplish bloom near Jonny's collarbone. 'Never.'

Jonny grins so wide. 'Good. I don’t want you to get bored of me.'

'You guys are gross!’ Sharpy shouts.

'Wanna go shower?’ Brent asks.’Maybe we can have loud sex somewhere the peanut gallery can’t do anything about.'

Sharpy howls in dismay, and Jonny laughs, drags Brent to the bathroom, where he wraps around Jonny as he’s trying to get the shower started up and drops tiny kisses all over his bare shoulders.

Brent's body heat is doing things to Jonny. He's kind of overwhelmed with the desire to press himself up against Brent's just, curl in close and just breathe him in. It's stupid, he thinks, this is just sex. He pulls away a little, and finally gets the shower running hot.

Brent doesnt fuck him. He puts him under the spray and washes his hair gently, rubs cream into all the marks like Jonny’s gonna break, runs hands all over him until he's wound so tight he doesn’t know what to do.

They step out of the shower eventually. Brent kisses him and Jonny just collapses into it like a building coming down, Brent’s arms wound around his waist.

'Bed for you, I think,' Brent says, wrapping him up in a towel, drying his hair with another one.

Jonny pulls a face. 'M'not twelve.'

'No, but you have a final tomorrow, and if you wake up early enough, I'll give you a blowjob for luck,’ Brent says, dragging him towards the bed.

'You're staying?'  Jonny asks. He doesn’t meant to sound so surprised, but. He kind of is.

'You wanted me to go?' Brent asks.

'No!' Jonny says, probably too eagerly. 'No, I… really want you to stay.'

'Then I’ll stay,' Brent decides, climbing into bed and wrapping around him like it’s easy.

Like he’s not making Jonny fall more and more in love by the second.

Brent kisses just underneath the hinge of Jonny's jaw and settles in the bed. Jonny falls asleep in minutes.

-

When he wakes up, the sun is shining into his room and Brent's gone. He feels a pang of dread, thinking Brent left, until he hears muffled voices coming from the other side of his door.  

He pads into the kitchen in his boxers and another stolen t-shirt of Brent’s. Sharpy looks increasingly smug about it, but says nothing, smirking around his fork.

Brent's at the stove cooking bacon, and Jonny leans into his side. 'Will this be as good as Duncs' omelettes?'

Brent kisses Jonny's temple. 'He taught me everything I know,' he says seriously, and jonny hums into his shoulder.

Jonny is unconvinced, but he accepts a plate and a kiss, slumps into his seat and shovels it in, half awake.

Tragically, he has no time for his good luck blowjob before he has to run for the L, but Brent does kiss him at the door, slow and filthy and Jonny has to drag himself away painfully, flipping Sharpy off on his way out the door.

-

It's a wonder he makes it through his final, honestly. His mind keeps wandering to Brent, and he keeps absently stroking the bruise at his collar bone. If he pulled off a B he'll be lucky.

He turns in his test and pulls his phone out, surprised to see three messages from Brent.

_good luck today_

_almost done?_

_i'm naked in your bed._

Something about the fact that Brent never left his place has Jonny's face flushing.

Jonny has never made the journey from campus to apartment faster, face red, like everyone knows he's rushing.

He ends up jogging up the stairs because the elevator is taking too long, and then has to wait outside his own apartment until he's not breathing heavily anymore, he doesn't want to seem too eager.

Sharpy’s in the kitchen, looking a little day-drunk, a little smug. 'Your boy's in there,' he says, pointing to Jonny's room. 'I don't even know what he's been doing, but he hasn't left the whole time you were gone.’

Jonny drops his bag by the front door and tries not to sprint to his room. Sharpy's watching him intently, stupid grin on his face. 'Oh Jesus, just go,' he says eventually, waving Jonny off.

Brent is, indeed, in Jonny's bed, just like his text said. He's got the sheets rucked up around his waist and his chest is bare, and his fingers are locked behind his head. The muscles in his arms stand out impressively. Jonny kind of wants to climb him like a tree.

'How'd it go?' Brent asks casually.

'Uh,' Jonny says, staring.

'That bad, huh?' Brent says. 'I guess you get some consolation, then.'

Jonny looks up from his bare chest then. 'Huh?'

Brent pats his own thigh with a smirk. 'Hop on, babe.'

He can't help it, he can't tell Brent no. He climbs into his lap, fully clothed, and sits there, chewing on his own lower lip. 'Hi,' he says, and Brent links his hands at Jonny's lower back.

'Hi,' he says, against Jonny's throat.

'Are we dating?' Jonny asks, suddenly, and flushes. He didn’t mean to say that, but it’s out there now.

Brent's hands, which had been roaming up and down his back under his shirt, pause.

'Do you want us to  be?' he asks.

Jonny's quiet for a few moments. He can feel Brent's eyelashes tickling at the edge of his jaw.

'Yeah,' he says. 'Yeah, I really do.'

He holds his breath and waits for Brent to laugh at him, tell him it's been fun, but he's not dating some kid he met at a bar and did body shots with.

It's not what happens.

What happens is, Brent cups Jonny's jaw in his hands and kisses him. 'Good,' he says, between flicks of his tongue against Jonny's. 'Because you're already mine.'

Jonny can't help but smile into the kiss. 'Yeah?'

'Yeah,' Brent says. 'Pretty sure this bitemark here says so, at least. Property of Brent Seabrook, right on your collarbone.' He presses his thumb into it until Jonny squirms away, slapping at his hand.

Jonny laughs, and kisses him again until they're both breathless, and Jonny can shift his hips and feel Brent's erection pressing into his thigh.

He leans back in Brent's lap and peels his shirt up and off, watches as Brent traces his fingertips over each of the bruises he left the night before. Jonny's breath hitches at the intimacy of it, the way Brent's eyes are trained on his skin.

'You're so fucking beautiful like this,' Brent says, leans forward and starts pressing a careful kiss to every bruise. 'You like wearing all my marks, huh?'

Jonny nods. 'Wanna leave some of my own on you,' he says, low, rough, into Brent's ear, feels him shiver.

'Yeah?' Brent murmurs, tilts his head. Jonny noses at the skin beneath his earlobe, before latching on.

Brent makes a soft, surprised sound. His hands are balanced carefully on Jonny's hips, thumbs pressing into the divots there.

Jonny gives just as good as he takes, he thinks, and sucks a bruise just below Brent's collar bone to match the one on his own body, licking over the mark when he's done.

He scrapes his teeth over it, makes Brent gasp. He touches it, after, brings his hand up from Jonny's hip to press at it.

'Now you're mine, too,' Jonny says, going for determined, but landing somewhere closer to uncertain.

'Yours,' Brent agrees, and pulls him in for another kiss.

Jonny rolls his hips, groans when Brent bites at his lower lip. 'You should take these off,' he says against his mouth, tugging at Jonny's shorts.

Jonny clambers to his feet and goes to shove them off but Brent stops him with a hand on his wrist. 'Slowly.'

Jonny colours, sliding the shorts over his ass. His underwear is stretched thin over his cock, and when he hooks his thumbs into the waistband, Brent tells him to stop.

'Back over here,' he says, and Jonny clambers on top of him again (and if he grinds down a little onto Brent, making his abs tense up, then who's to say it wasn't by accident?)

Brent flips him easily, and kisses his way down Jonny's chest and stomach, mouthing at the head of his dick through his underwear until it's soaked with spit. Jonny's shaking a little bit. 'Wonder if I could make you come like this' he says, almost conversationally, and Jonny moans.

Jonny spreads his legs a little, his fingers curling tightly into the sheets. 'Yeah, I bet I can,' Brent says, sliding his hands to Jonny's inner thighs, pushing them apart. He noses up the crease of Jonny's thigh, flattens his tongue along Jonny's length. 'You like that, sweetheart?' he asks, pressing his lips to the head again.

Jonny thinks eventually he’ll get over how Brent can just take him apart with tiny touches, murmured words, but right now all he can do is focus on Brent’s hands on his thighs and Bent’s breath hot on his cock.

'You can touch me, babe,' Brent says, and Jonny's hands are in his hair immediately, scraping at his skull, tugging at the longer strands. Some of them fall into his face, and he looks up at Jonny through his bangs. Brent keeps eye contact as he starts mouthing at the length again.

'Brent,' Jonny warns, breathless, and when Brent finally wraps his lips around the head of Jonny's dick again, he arches his back and comes, his thighs trembling and his abs jumping as his cock jerks beneath the fabric.

'That's my boy,' Brent says, moving up to blanket Jonny's body with his own.

Brent fucks Jonny slowly, once he's peeled the soaked underwear off him, coaxed him onto his belly so he can fuck down between his thighs, slick with sweat and Jonny's own come. He bites the nape of Jonny's neck, high enough that a shirt won't cover it, and comes all over Jonny's ass and back with a groan.

He doesn't mean to say 'I love you' when he comes, but it's what happens.

Jonny goes perfectly still. He can't have heard that right--and even if he did, it was just the heat of the moment, Brent hadn’t meant it. They'd only known each other for a few weeks. Jonny must have heard wrong.

He doesn't move when Brent kisses the back of his neck, or when Brent cleans him up, gently as always. He doesn't say anything when Brent rolls him onto his side and spoons behind him, fingers splayed over Jonny's lower belly.

But when Brent kisses his shoulder and says good night, he can't help himself. 'You didn't mean that--did you?' He's so embarrassed at how desperately hopeful he sounds.

Brent's mostly asleep, slurs when he asks, 'mean what?'

'...Nothing,' Jonny says, taking the coward's way out. 'Go to sleep.'

'Mkay,' Brent says, and holds Jonny just a little tighter.

It was the heat of the moment, Jonny thinks. It had to be.

-

Except it keeps happening, and it's getting harder and harder for Jonny to pretend he's mishearing.

Brent murmurs it into his skin while he fucks him, mumbles it every morning when Jonny wakes him up with coffee and a kiss.

Jonny’s running out of excuses for him, but he-- can’t be in love with Jonny. He can’t.

-

It's late one night after Brent's shift at the bar. Jonny'd gone home hours ago, and he's buried in the blankets of Brent's bed when Brent gets home. He hears Brent strip down and feels him slip into bed next to him, peppering kisses on the back of his neck and shoulder.

He hears him sigh softly and rustle, like he can’t get comfortable.

'Love you, sweetheart,' he says, so quietly. Jonny's eyes open.

'Really?' Jonny asks. Can’t help himself, rolls over and looks at Brent in the gloom.

'Really,' Brent confirms, tiny smile playing on his face. 'That okay?'

Jonny colours. 'So okay.'

'Good,' Brent says. 'Then you'll have no objection to this, either.' He slides a hand under the sheets easily.

Jonny spreads his legs and closes his eyes, lets Brent's hands wander over his skin. He turns his head into Brent's shoulder and swallows his nerves before whispering, 'I love you too.'

He can feel Brent's face light up, lips pressed to his temple, can feel his smile spreading straight across his face. 'I guess you can stay then,' he says, curls his hand across the dish of Jonny's pelvis and rocks their hips together.

Jonny thrusts against him, already hard and wanting.

Brent chuckles softly. 'Easy, kid,' he says, holding Jonny's hips tight.  'Tell me again how you feel about me.' As he says it, he rolls Jonny onto his back, straddles his thighs and plants his palms on Jonny's chest, thumbs swiping over his nipples.

'Love you,' Jonny gasps. 'Love you so much.'

Brent answers by leaning down and sucking a bruise directly over his heart.

'Sap,' Jonny manages, with a breathless laugh.

'Yeah,' Brent admits. 'Your sap, though.'

Jonny flushes. It’s starting to become a theme, he thinks, whenever Brent talks.

'Wanna fuck you like this,' Brent says against his chest. 'See your face when i'm sliding in.'

Jonny shudders. 'Do it.'

Brent's fingers are cold with lube when they push in slowly. He keeps his eyes on Jonny's face the whole time. 'Come on, beautiful, open your eyes for me, i want to see those big beautiful brown eyes.'

Jonny opens his eyes and has to look away again. Brent looks at him like he’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

He leans in and licks around Jonny's navel, working two fingers in before sliding out slowly and pushing them back in again.

'C'mon,' Jonny pants. 'C'mon, Brent, come up here.'

'So needy, so bossy,' Brent chides, but he nips his way up Jonny's chest to kiss him, leaving a tiny trail of red marks.

'Hey,' Jonny says, smiling up at him softly.

'Hey,' Brent says back, before twisting his fingers sharply. Jonny's jaw drops, and Brent grins, evil. 'You like that, huh, babe?'

'Yeah,' Jonny gasps. Brent crooks his fingers again.

'I'm gonna fuck you hard, okay? Gonna make it so good, sweetheart,' he says, kissing along Jonny's jaw.

' _Please_ ,' Jonny says, arching his back

Brent's cock is always a stretch, even as loose as he is, and his face twists when Brent pushes in, slow as he can.

'Okay?' Brent whispers, smoothing Jonny's hair back.

Jonny nods, lets out a shuddering breath and pulls his legs back, adjusting.

'So good for me,' Brent says, kissing Jonny tenderly. 'Taking it so good, babe.' He pushes all the way in and waits, hovering over Jonny, until the tension in Jonny's abdomen eases and he squirms beneath Brent.

When Jonny's breathing slows, Brent pulls almost all the way out, so its just the head, barely holding him open. He rocks his hips ever so slightly, fucking Jonny with just the tip until he's arching his back and begging for more.

'Say please, sweetheart.' Brent says, circling his hips minutely.

'Please,' Jonny whimpers. ' _Please_ , Brent.'

'Please what, babe?' he asks, and Jonny whines, tosses his head to the side.

'F--fuck me,' Jonny says, and he's trembling now, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin.

'Well, since you asked so nicely,' Brent says, and grins.

Jonny howls when he slams back in, sets a punishing pace that has him shouting and crying and whimpering while Brent jerks him off almost roughly.

He comes in Brent's hand with a sob, and he chases the sound with a kiss.

Brent follows soon after, coming all over Jonny's stomach with a cry of his own. He covers Jonny's face in kisses, cradles his jaw in his hands and searches his face. 'Okay, babe?'

Jonny nods once, the slightest movement of his head, mouth half open and tears drying on his cheeks. 'That was--' he swallows. 'That was a lot.'

'Too much?'  Brent asks. He looks concerned, thumbing at Jonny’s tears.

'Never,' Jonny promises.

Brent noses at his jaw and smiles. 'We should go to sleep now though,' he says, and starts unpeeling himself from Jonny.

Jonny pulls a face. 'Class in the morning.'

'Then definitely time to sleep.' Brent says, and pads into the bathroom.

Jonny's almost asleep when Brent comes back. 'D'you want to go?' he asks, opening one eye and looking at Brent. He really hopes he doesn’t, but-- he’ll get it, if he doesn’t want to stay.

'Why do you do that?' Brent asks, kissing his temple.

'Do what?'

'Doubt me. How I feel.'

'I just-- no one's ever wanted me like you do.' Jonny says, looking at his hands. 'You're so much older than me, more experienced. What if you find someone better?'

'Not gonna happen.' Brent says firmly. 'And I'm gonna keep telling you until you keep believing it. You're mine, and I'm yours, and I'm in this for real, Jon.'

 _Oh_ , Jonny thinks. Oh.

'Okay,' he says softly, curling towards Brent. Brent closes his arms around Jonny's waist and holds him close.

'Love you, kid. Now go to sleep.'

-

Brent keeps telling him, over and over. Duncs and Sharpy have started making vomiting sounds whenever they're in the same room. Jonny hates them both, but-- he’s happy.

And then Jonny doesn’t get accepted by UChicago for med school.

‘That’s okay,’ Brent says. ‘Where did you get accepted?’

Jonny looks down at his file of papers. ‘Harvard. But--’

Brent bursts out laughing.

‘Don’t be an asshole,’ Jonny snaps, starts gathering up his letters to leave.

With what looks like effort, Brent stops laughing. ‘Okay. I’m sorry. I just-- Jon, your worst case scenario is _Harvard_?’

Jonny flushes. ‘When you say it like that, it sounds dumb. I just-- Boston’s a long way away from Chicago.’ He doesn’t say _it’s a long way from you_ , but he thinks Brent hears him anyway.

‘I like Boston,’ Brent says, consideringly, but then Jonny changes the subject, and thinks that’ll be that.

-

‘We should break up,’ Jonny says one evening, on his back on Brent’s couch. Brent’s making dinner in the kitchen, and Jonny hears him stop moving.

‘What?’ he asks, coming to stand in the doorway. He has some kind of dough all over his hands.

‘I just--’ Jonny starts, sitting up. ‘Boston and Chicago are so far apart. You should have someone closer, I don’t want to make you do long distance.’

Brent disappears back in the kitchen. Jonny hears running water, and he reappears, scrubbing his hands dry on a dishcloth. ‘Why are we breaking up?’ he asks, calmly.

‘So you can find someone who doesn’t live in Boston,’ Jonny tries. He didn’t really want to make a huge thing of it. He doesn’t want to leave, but. He has to. So he can’t ask Brent to wait for him.

‘But I’m coming with you,’ Brent says.

Jonny stares. ‘But-- your job is here.’

‘I’m a bartender, Jon. It’s a universally transferable skill. Did you really think I was going to just let you leave and replace you with the next hot underage kid that snuck into my bar on a fake ID?’

‘You own your bar though,’ Jonny says miserably. ‘You have a life here, you have roots.’

'Jonny. _You’re_ part of my life. How do you not know that yet? Besides, who's gonna cook you breakfast every morning? You can't even make toast.'

'I make toast!' Jonny protests, weakly. Brent just looks at him, smiling.

'Duncs can look after the bar. I've been meaning to branch out, anyway. I like Boston.'

'You'd-- move that far? For me?'

'Jonny, I'd move to the _moon_ for you.'

‘Oh,’ Jonny says, faintly. Brent comes over and cradles his jaw in his hands, and kisses his forehead.

‘You’re an idiot,’ he says, fondly. Jonny kind of has to agree with him.

-

Duncs throws them a going-away party at the bar, now that Jonny's twenty one and legal and everything.

Once everyone's cleared out at the end of the night, Brent shakes the salt-shaker at Jonny and waggles his eyebrows.

'Just like old times?' he says. Jonny shakes his head and laughs, and reaches behind the bar for the lime wedges.

'You ever done a shot out of someone's belly button?' Brent asks. Jonny looks at him. Brent strips his shirt off and hops on the bar.

'I can't believe you seduced me with body shots that first night,' Jonny says, even as he’s licking a wet stripe over Brent's belly, shaking the salt there. 'And I'm not drinking out of your belly button,' he says against Brent's hip. He sticks a lime wedge between Brent's teeth and pours tequila into the jut of his hip bone, watching it trickle down to Brent's waistband.

Brent shivers.

'I mean, it worked, didn't it?' he asks, taking the lime wedge out.

Jonny hums against Brent's belly. 'I guess it worked okay.'

He laps up the tequila but takes his time, lingering over Brent's hip, kissing up to his chest. 'Longest body shot in history,' Brent says, but he's a little breathless so Jonny counts this as a win.

'I'm sorry, you want me to stop?' Jonny asks, biting at the ridge of his collarbone with a grin.

'Brat,' Brent breathes, reaching down to curl a hand in Jonny's hair. 'You need a haircut.'

'You love my hair,' Jonny says, and puts the lime back in Brent's mouth, smirking and bending down to bite at it.

'I do,' Brent admits, tugging a little. Jonny smiles and Brent tugs a little harder, tipping Jonny's head back. 'I love _you_.'

Jonny beams, and spits the lime wedge out. 'I know.' He kisses Brent, and climbs up into the bar, straddles his waist.

Brent raises an eyebrow.

'There's no one here,’ Jonny says, and smirks. ‘Or are you shy all of a sudden?' He bends down to lick a stripe up Brent's chest, bites at his collarbone with a grin. When he kisses Brent he tastes like lime juice.

Brent tangles his hand in the hair at the back of Jonny's neck. 'I'm not the shy one in this relationship, remember?' he teases, tipping Jonny's head back to kiss down his throat. 'You got a plan here?' he asks, his teeth grazing Jonny's Adam's apple. 'Gonna ride me right here on the bar?'

Jonny shudders, grinds his ass down a little bit. 'Was thinking about it.' When he shifts his hips a little he can feel Brent's cock, half hard already.

'Stop thinking,' Brent murmurs. 'And do.'

They don't do this often. Brent likes to lay Jonny out, take him apart, spread his legs and push in slowly, let Jonny adjust slowly.

Jonny’s already warm-cheeked, but they get hotter when he wriggles out of his jeans and underwear, slicks himself up from the bottle Brent had hidden behind the bar “just in case”, apparently, opens himself up kneeling over Brent’s hips.

His hands reach out to land on Jonny’s hips, and Jonny shakes his head. ‘Hands behind your head,’ Jonny says, breathy as he adds another finger. 'No touching,' Jonny says, grinning smugly. 'Not yet.’

Brent just shifts his hips so the seam of his jeans, where his erection is bulging, rubs against Jonny's perineum, watches him squirm.

'Bossy tonight,' Brent says, and it comes out a little breathless, which pleases Jonny to no end. He usually lets Brent take charge, likes it that way, but he also likes the look on Brent's face when the tables turn.

'Yep,' Jonny says, cheerfully, and then twists his own wrist, scissoring his fingers apart and making his hips jump.

Brent watches silently, hands pillowed behind his head, eyes jerking from the look on Jonny's face to the tip of his cock bouncing up and down gently to the shadow of Jonny's fingers disappearing inside himself.

Eventually, Jonny says, ‘I’m ready,’ and tugs the zipper down on Brent’s jeans, pulls his cock out of his underwear, and wraps a hand around the base of it.

‘Easy, babe,' Brent says, unhooking his fingers from behind his head and running his palms up Jonny's thighs.

'I said no--' Jonny tart, but he cuts himself off with a gasp when the head of Brent's dick pushes inside. His head falls back and he covers Brent's hands with his own, easing himself down onto Brent's cock.

'No _touching_ ,' Jonny says, when he's bottomed out, balls deep, is trying to catch his breath.

Brent laughs, and takes his hands away, puts them behind his head again.

'Better,' Jonny says, and plants his hands on Brent's ribcage before lifting himself up again, sliding back down easily. Brent's face goes tight, but he keeps his hands where they are.

Jonny's got his lower lip tucked tight between his teeth, beads of sweat forming near his temples. 'Fuck,' he breathes when Brent rolls his hips, his chin falling to his chest as he rides Brent's dick.

The combination of arousal and alcohol and _Brent_ means he doesn't last long, coming on his chest with a cry, but he keeps fucking up and down until Brent's abs tense and he comes inside Jonny, throwing his head back and groaning.

'Fuck,' Brent says, coming back down. 'I fucking love you so much, Jon,'

Jonny mumbles something that should probably have been words against Brent's chest and brent laughs softly, trailing his fingertips up Jonny's spine.

'Think we should tell Duncs we defiled the bar?' he asks, and Jonny shakes his head, laughing.

'Nah. Funnier if we don't.'

'I knew I liked you' Brent says with a chuckle. 'I guess I'll keep you.'

'Try and make me leave.' Jonny says, and kisses him lazily.

**Author's Note:**

> we do have a sequel to this, but we're gonna wait a while to post it because we're evil/lazy/one of us has a senior thesis due a week today and doesn't have the time or the inclination to edit it.
> 
> the sequel is still porn. we're still not sorry.


End file.
